


Insomnia

by TracedViolet



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Child Neglect, Hallucinations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-12-16 01:54:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21028337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TracedViolet/pseuds/TracedViolet
Summary: Your name is Eridan Ampora and you dread going to sleep.





	Insomnia

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this because I have hypnogonic hallucinations and I had to give them to somebody.

Your name is Eridan Ampora and you dread going to sleep.

Every night is a vicious battle between logic and your own lousy, overactive imagination. Of course, you like making up fantastic stories. It's all you and Vriska do with your adventures in role playing, but you lost control of it somewhere. Somehow you lost the ability to tell your brain to stop and turn off. So, when you try to sleep now, it’s less tossing and turning and more staring wide eyed at your room in constant anxiety induced vigilance. Repeating to yourself over and over again:

“There's nothin there.There’s nothin there. Stop actin like a fuckin wwriggler an go to sleep.”

but you can’t.

You catch something move out of the corner of your eye, a pair of grey ghostly hands reaching out to grab you. You whip your head around to see.....nothing.

“It’s not real. It’s not real. you’re makin it up in your head.”

A black hooded figure appears in front of your closet. You gasp, jump out of your recuperacoon and back yourself against the wall, heart pounding in your chest. Yet again, it’s nothing.  
You are so tired. you don’t want to do this anymore, but the unbearable feeling that you are in grave danger is relentless. Every night is the same endless fear. the same spiral into madness. the same scrambling for an escape.

“You are not runnin awway again.You are not doin this again.There’s nothin there, it ain’t real, and you are not gonna run awway!”

Another shadowy figure flies across your room, and you let out a disgustingly, pathetic whimper. You know it’s stupid, burying yourself under blankets. You are far too old to believe that a few layers of fabric are going to stop razor sharp teeth and deadly claws from ripping you apart, limb from limb and eating you alive. But the panic is so much louder than any bravery you can muster up, so you give in and hide.  
Any attempt at relaxing is futile. All you end up doing is grinding your teeth and straining your throat trying not to scream. Eventually, the air becomes too hot and thick to breathe, and you cannot stand it anymore. You poke your head out from under the false security, but don’t dare open your eyes. If you don't look you can't see them, right?  
God, you are pitiful.

“Don't scream. Don’t scream. Don’t beg for your life. You’re better than this. you are so much better than this.”

Your eyes snap open anyway and the first thing you see is a bloody, disfigured creature, crawling up to grab you and drag you straight to hell where you belong.

the next sound that comes out of your mouth is horrifying. If anyone actually lived near you, they would assume you’ve been murdered. You bolt for the door, terror replacing any thoughts you had before this moment, veins filled with more adrenaline than blood. You are absolutely, without a doubt, convinced you will die.

It's not until you are halfway down the stairs do you even realize that it wasn’t anything close to a monster at all. It was just a sweater. Just a stupid, lousy, harmless sweater that, in the dark, with your glasses off, and having been worked up into a frenzy, looked a hell of a lot like death.

Anyone else would have noticed it right away. They would have shrugged it off, and went right back to sleep, But you, you on the other hand, have enough time to scream bloody murder and run down the hallway before you even recognize you had made a mistake. And even then, the recognition isn't always enough. Sometimes the images just stay there. You know it's a lamp, or a chair or even your own awful reflection, but all you can see are monsters. All you can feel is fear.

You spot your lusus in the living room and immediately bury your face in his chest, violet tears streaming down your face. He doesn't react much, there’s certainly no attempt at comfort, but he doesn't push you away and that’s all you can really ask for. Sometimes, he’ll just shove you off. When he’s annoyed and just too tired to deal with this despicable nonsense, he shuts doors on you, and you bawl your eyes out on the floor in front of them, leaving claw marks in the wood out of desperation. It is a detestable display and you hate yourself for every second of it.

So now, even in your panicked state, you still find it within yourself to apologize profusely for your immaturity. You know this kind of behavior is unacceptable. Clinging to him and blubbering incoherently about how much you don’t want to die, but he is the only stable thing you’ve got. He's the only thing that is real to you in this moment. you couldn’t bare to let go.

You’re so sorry. You’re so fucking sorry that you keep doing this to him. You know he didn't sign up for this when he chose you. You were strong and self sufficient. You never needed much of anything until now. Now, your are more of a burden than you ever were as a grub, and you don’t even know where to start to try and fix it.

You sit there for what feels like an eternity, sobbing, apologizing, and pretending the rest of the world doesn't exist until eventually, everything starts to fade away and you finally fall asleep.

You’ll wake up later on the couch, alone and exhausted. You will wake up and you will pretend none of this ever happened. You'll pretend you're not crazy, that you don't need anyone's help and hey, you got lucky this time.

at least you didn’t hear the voices.


End file.
